Game of Thrones: Wrath of the North
by Patriot-112
Summary: One-shot Challenge. Roose Bolton is made Warden of the North, in the aftermath of the Red Wedding. However, he and his house were about to have a deadly reality check. M for violence, and major Roose Bolton killing. Not for kiddies!
1. Chapter 1

_**Patriot-112: Hey everyone! This is both a one-shot and a challenge for Game of Thrones, which I call Wrath of the North, if anyone wants to try it. The idea of this challenge is the North's reaction to the Red Wedding, including the death and mutilation of Robb Stark. When I first read about the fates of Robb and most of his army and family at the hands of the Lannisters, and the treacherous Boltons and Freys, I immediately felt a wave of vengeance form in the pit of my heart. Nobody gets away with that kind of bullshit, NOBODY!**_

 _ **Now, enough of my rant let's start...**_

 _ **Disclaimer: Game of thrones doesn't belong to me.**_

 _ **Warning: To those who haven't seen the series...SPOILERS!**_

* * *

 _"Wake the White Wolf, at the Dawn of war...and Punishment he'll bring"_

* * *

 _ **On the Road to Winterfell**_

 _ **One Week after the Red Wedding**_

* * *

A column of nearly 5,000 men marched on the Kingsroad, their banners being blue with a skinned man, making them the Bannermen of House Bolton. In the lead, Roose Bolton, the Lord of House Bolton, former vassal lord to House Stark, and now the new Lord Paramount of the North, after he had betrayed the Starks in his involvement in the Red Wedding, after being promised lordship of Winterfell and control of the North.

However, word had spread quickly to the people of the Northern Kingdom, and their reaction was obvious...rage.

Many of the surviving Noble Houses of the War of the Five Kings, with the exception of the Whitehills, want nothing to do with the Boltons, and the smallfolk throw insults, and a few rotten vegetables, at Roose and his men, calling them betrayers, murderers, usurpers, oathbreakers, guest right violators.

Of course, Roose Bolton took it with a straight, and rather smug, face. He didn't care about their griping, he was the LORD of Winterfell and Warden of the North, with the Starks, mostly, now gone. Eddard Stark, executed by the order of King Joffrey, his wife Catelyn Stark, killed at the Red Wedding, their eldest son, Robb Stark, dead along with his own wife, their youngest sons, Bran and Rickon Stark, killed in the sacking of Winterfell, (according to him anyway), Eddard's bastard son, Jon Snow was on the Wall as one of the Night's Watch, and wasn't planning on leaving it soon, Sansa Stark was held in King's Landing, and Arya Stark was missing.

Overall, all he had to do was deal with the Ironborn and bring the other Northern Houses to heel, the ones who did survive his treachery, or else they will suffer the same fate as the Starks.

"Milord Bolton," said one of his bannermen, "Something is blocking the road,"

Roose looked ahead and sure enough, there was something in the middle of the road, and the Lord of the Dreadfort could see it was undoubtedly a peasant's wagon. His face scrunched a bit at the minor interference, promising to find the farmer and have him flayed alive.

"Get that cart out of the way," he ordered, and the bannerman nodded and he and four other bannerman rode ahead to remove the road block.

He then turned back to the column he brought with him from the Dreadfort. Two thousand cavalry, two thousand men at arms, and a few hundred archers, most of them armed with crossbows. Not much an imposing army that Robb managed to muster to battle the Lannisters, but it was enough to hold Winterfell from anyone foolish to try to taking it.

"Milord..." said another bannerman, a young man of twenty, "...something doesn't feel right. It's too quiet,"

Roose blinked and looked around and noticed that the young man was right. With the exception of the wind blowing throw the trees, there was no sound of any animals that lived the forest. Not even the song of a bird.

"AGH!"

His head snapped forward, just in time to see a man of the group he sent to remove the cart from the road, fall off his horse dead, due to an arrow through his neck. Soon the other Bolton soldiers suffered the same fate as arrows from the trees rained down on the horsemen.

"AMBUSH!"

It was that single shout which signaled a volley storm of arrows from the trees to rain down on the Bolton column, killing many men.

"Form up! Archers return fire!" Roose ordered, but the archers and crossbowmen were having trouble returning the incoming volley, as they were suffering casualties themselves.

"FOR THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

Roose heart dropped at that familiar war cry, as out of the forest, came thousands of well armored, well armed, and very angry North Men all shouting with fury. Mounted on horses or on foot, they all charged at the surprised Bolton column. Roose didn't see any banners of known houses of the North, except the only banner that was colored a light grey, with a rampant white wolf on a black kite shield as the Sigil.

The ambushers crashed into the stunned Bolton troops and the sounds of steel meeting steel, steel meeting flesh, and steel meeting shield, as the attackers fought the Bolton traitors with no mercy and no pity. All that was on their minds were two things: Justice and Revenge.

Roose fought from his horse as he slashed and stabbed at any of the attackers that came near him. A polearm nearly stabbed him in the head, but the head of House Bolton grabbed the shaft of the weapon and rewarded the foot soldier with a stab to the heart killing him instantly.

A horn blast caught his attention, and his heart sunk even more as he saw more men coming from the trees, all wanting to tear his men to shreds.

' _Fuck! Where the hell did they all come from!?'_ Roose thought angrily as he deflected a sword strike from a mounted cavalryman.

"Fucking traitor! You'll pay for what you've done!" the man shouted, as he continued to slash at the Red Wedding conspirator.

"Fuck off!" he shouted, before he deflected the sword again, before punching the rider off his horse.

THACK!

"AGH!"

Roose winced in pain, as an arrow lodged itself into his shoulder, distracting him long enough for a spearman to thrust into his horse's chest causing the animal to whinny in pain before collapsing to the ground, send the Lord tumbling off. Managing to scramble himself upright despite the pain in his shoulder, Roose decided that he had to get away and get back to the Dreadfort and the rest of his army. He first had to get out of this slaughter house, as he saw his men falling left and right, dying from being stabbed, slashed, or their skulls bashed in. Some of his men did the wise thing and sought to get away, only to be brought down by arrows as they try to run back down the road.

Seeing no choice seeing as the King's Road was a free-for-all shooting gallery, he decided to take his chances by heading into the forest.

* * *

 _ **Overlooking the slaughter**_

* * *

 **(OST: Witcher 3 The Trail)**

A man clad in steel armor with a white surcoat draped over the breastplate, the visor of his helmet hid his face, as he watched as the Traitors column was reduced to a few tatters of resistance as others tried to run.

"Milord, Roose Bolton has fled into the woods," said a mounted knight, as the armored man nodded.

"Just as I thought he would, he would be stupid to follow the herd," he said, and turned to the knight, "Continue finishing off the last of these turncoats. I'm going after Bolton on my own,"

"Milord," the knight said as the man kicked his black stallion into a full run, the man's mission clear.

Hunt down and _kill_ Roose Bolton.

* * *

With said person, he was running through the trees, desperately trying to get away from the massacre back on the road, as Roose could still hear the death screams of the men he brought with him. He tuned them out as his main priority was getting out alive.

However, that plan was about a big snag, as the sound of howling reached his ears. Wolf howls.

"Oh fuck..." the Lord of the Dreadfort cursed as he looked around, as the howls soon turned into growls, and soon coming from the mist that had just appeared, eyes glowing with fury, was a pack of gray wolves, all snarling at the Traitor.

The Bolton Lord held his sword as he waited for the fleabags to attack... but for some reason they were not. They just kept still in their spots, glaring and growling at him, daring the Lord of House Bolton to make a sudden move.

A new sound reached his ears as the familiar beating of horse hooves made him look into the direction they were coming from, only to see a figure in armor, on a black stallion stop right in front of him, the animal itself rearing as it neighed. The armor itself was wolf themed, with wolf heads for pauldrons, and what he believed were wolf ears settled on top of the helm. The narrow slit, looking down at him, and as if his mind was playing tricks on him, he saw the armored warriors glow a eerily yellow.

After the war stallion settled itself, the knight dismounted from his horse, drawing a sword from the scabbard mounted on the saddle. The sword that was drawn was a Longsword, with it's most distinguish feature being the brass pommel which was shaped into four snarling wolf heads. However the most shocking part of the sword were the ripples throughout the blade, identifying it as Valyrian Steel.

"You really thought you were going to get away that easily did you?" the man said, snapping Roose out of his shock as he saw the helmet being removed. As soon as it was off, Roose could now clearly see the features of the knight before him. He looked to be at least in his late thirties, with his face being battle hardened with a few scars. But the most interesting feature was the ashen white hair, making him almost mistake for a Targaryen if not for the wolf-like yellow eyes. Roose took notice that the knight was taller than him by a few inches, and his build was lean, but muscular.

The traitor then decided to speak.

"Who in the seven hells are you?" he demanded, and the man raised his sword and aimed it at the Head of House Bolton.

"Your punishment, _traitor_ ," the man said, his voice hard as cold steel. He then turned to the pack of wolves surrounding them. "Don't interfere. Keep him from leaving, but don't attack unless I order it,"

Roose was surprised as he saw the wolves, all took a calm but alert posture, their eyes still glaring into his. Without warning the knight charged forward fast, even with the armor, and delivered a low strike making Roose use a low guard to protect himself, deflecting the sword away. The knight immediately attacked again as he swung his Valyrian blade in a high strike.

The Lord of the Dreadfort, barely had enough time to block the strike, before a kick sent him backwards sprawling on the ground.

"Get up, _Warden_ of the North...," the knight said mockingly, "...Get up, and take your death like a real man of the North should!"

Roose managed to get himself back up, thrusting his sword at the man's gut, while the man countered by deflecting the thrust away from him, while using only one hand, and then pulled the Bolton into a headbutt making the man fall back on the ground, this time the traitor holding his head to ease the pain of the sudden attack.

"You may be a good interrogator, Bolton," the knight drawled, "But as a warrior, you're sorely lacking in skill."

Roose immediately took offense to that as he got himself back on his feet and began swinging his sword at the knight, who just blocked and deflected every one. The duel continued, until a small audience other than the wolves appeared, as a few of the soldiers who attacked the column stood around and watched the fight, all of them having smirking, or neutral expressions on their faces.

Soon, with Roose's sword looking like it was about to break any minute, and after dealing a few cuts to the Lord of House Bolton, the knight gave one last swing that both broke the sword, and sending it out of the traitor's hand. However, the white haired knight then delivered a downward slash that removed the traitor's arm from the elbow down.

With blood spraying from the severed limb, the conspirator of the Red Wedding went down on his knees, placing his hand on the stump, in an attempt to stop the blood flow. He then looked and glared as the whit knight, gave him a emotionless expression that showed neither anger or joy in seeing the condition that the traitor was in.

"This could've been avoided if you hadn't betrayed Robb Stark, and helped the Freys in massacring our Northern brothers at the Twins," the man said, "But thanks to your greed, your jealousy, and your lust for power, the North will now lose not only one, but TWO great houses, as your House is now forever cursed for breaking Guest Rights, and will suffer the consequences for it,"

Roose only growled as he drew his flaying knife and attempted to stand up and shove his favorite weapon into this obvious Stark Loyalist's throat, only for his remaining hand to be sliced off as well, and the man pushed him back on his knees, and gripped his longsword in both hands.

"I, Balian, of the Order of the Direwolf, first of that name, in the name of Robb Stark, first of his name of House Stark, the King of the North, do I hereby sentence you, Roose Bolton of House Bolton, and all of your wretched house...to death,"

With a single swipe of the longsword, the head of Roose Bolton was removed from his shoulders, and sent toward the ring of wolves. The said animals then let out loud howls, and the man giving a loud roar of victory knowing that justice was served.

( **End OST Withcer 3: The Trail** )

The knight, Balian, said as he wiped the Bolton's blood off his sword with a rag, and then sheathed it, before turning to a soldier with a spear and signaling to him to bring it over, the soldier obeyed and walked over and handed the weapon to him.

Balian then walked over to the head and grabbed by the hair, before taking the severed appendage and slamming it on the point of the spear.

Raising it up, the men only roared louder and louder, and soon chants of 'White Wolf!' were shouted as the Northmen saluted their Lord Commander, as he rose the mounted head high.

Balian remained silent though, knowing that this was not the end, not by a long shot. There were still the Freys, the Lannisters, and all who are allied or who support them, to deal with. And the rumors of the Others return from the Wall, growing more and more with each day.

 _'This is only the beginning. Winter is soon upon us, and there are many that must be brought to justice,'_

* * *

 ** _Patriot-112: FOR THE KING OF THE NORTH! That felt good. I hope I got some things right, this is my first GoT fanfics, and I hope there are those of Stark fans who loved Bolton getting his much overdue reckoning._**

 ** _As for my OC, he is known only as Balian the White Wolf, for having ashen white hair, and wolf-like eyes, and is a member of my Northern Order of Knights, the Order of the Direwolf, founded secretly by Torrhen, the last king of the North. They are loyal to the Starks, and have mostly kept their activities hidden until the Red Wedding._**

 ** _Moving on, there are two rules to the challenge: 1.) Make your own Northern Knight Order. 2.) Vengeance on those who orchestrated the Red Wedding (Boltons, Freys, and Lannisters)._**

 ** _Until then my friends. See ya later._**


	2. Chapter 2 The North Remembers

**Patriot-112: Okay, I know that I said that this was to be a oneshot, but thanks to some reviewers, I decided to add another chapter. This time focusing on two locations, with the second location being where the Red Wedding took place. So without further adue, let's get started.**

 **P.S.: Info on Balian's** **armor, the helmet is a Sallet type, with two metal pieces shaped like wolf's ears on top. I know it might sound corny, and cliché, but hey, got any better ideas?**

* * *

 **Fall of the Twins**

* * *

 **One Week after the King's Road Ambush**

 **The Twins, the Riverlands**

* * *

Walder Frey was sitting his chair, smug grin on his face, as he read the message from King Joffrey thanking him for his service in killing the Young Wolf, his whore, and his bitch of a mother, along with almost the entire army he brought with him, save for a few that managed to escape but will be hunted down nonetheless. The Boy King will no doubt reward him for this act of 'loyalty' to the Iron Throne, and possibly make him the Lord of the Riverlands. Of course, when news of the Red Wedding spread to the smallfolk, they immediately began calling him a Guest Rights breaker, traitor, and many other things. Of course he didn't care what those peasants called him, he was the new Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, and they would just to shut the fuck up and deal with it.

"Milord, Frey," said one of his guards, who entered and announced his arrival.

"What is it?" the turncloak sneered out.

"A caravan has arrived outside the gate, milord. Apparently they have a gift from Lord Bolton," the man said, making Frey raise an eyebrow.

"What kind of gift?" he demanded.

"Well, from what me and the other guards saw, a very large wine barrel, milord," the guard said again, "Enough to quench the thirst of the men for weeks!,"

Walder's eyes widened slightly at that, as he stood and limped out of the Lord's hall to see this gift from Bolton.

* * *

 **A few minutes later**

* * *

Walder had arrived at the gate along, and ordered the damn open. And his eyes widened as he saw the massive barrel. Written in gold lettering on the front was Gold Wine, with the crest of one of the Arbor's finest wineries in all of Westeros.

"By the Gods," Walder whispered, "Is Lord Bolton compensating for something?,"

He then looked at the smallfolk who had no doubt brought the massive barrel here.

"Well, bring it in! Might as well drink it before it all goes to waste!"

* * *

And so, with the aid of the team of oxen, and human muscle, the large wine barrel was brought into the Twins, and Walder Frey, his sons, along with all the other Frey men, and the soldiers, began to drink the wine, and soon a rousing party erupting in the castle throughout the night, and only ending a few hours after midnight with nearly everyone falling asleep, as a result of drunkenness.

As soon as it quieted down, areas on top of the wine barrel opened up, and ropes were thrown out onto the ground, allowing men clad in brigandine jerkins and chainmail shirts to climb out and down, all thirty of them, all armed to the teeth, as they quietly moved throughout the castle, killing any sleeping Frey man they laid their eyes on. Two men snuck up to the battlements where they dealt with the only two sober watchmen, while the rest opened the gate. The leader of the infiltration party grabbed a torch off the wall and began waving it as a signal.

* * *

In the woods not far from the castle, armed men on horses and on foot began to run toward the castle, their voices hushed, and the only sound heard was their armor and horse hooves as they charged into the twins, and adding the slaughter going on, as the drunk Frey men tried, albeit clumsily, to fight back. No doubt due to the effects of the wine.

Soon yells were heard, as shouts of "For the King of the North!" were heard, as the now revealed Northerners unleashed the same quarter given to their countrymen, Red Wedding Quarter.

Cries of mercy went unheeded as throats were slashed, heads bashed in, men stabbed, hanged, dismembered, all the same things done to the Young Wolf's men on the night of the Red Wedding.

Riding in, was none other than Balian himself, clad in his armor as his men dealt their justice on the treacherous swine who had tricked their liege and butchered their brothers-in-arms.

"Lord Balian, our men have entered the keep and have the bastard Frey trapped in his bed chamber," said a soldier, with some splatters of traitor's blood on his brigandine.

Balian nodded before he dismounted his horse, and drew his sword from the scabbard.

"Time to end this then."

* * *

Walder Frey was a rat trapped, and he knew it the moment he heard the shouting and the screams of the dying men that were his men-at-arms, along with the screams of his family, as the assailants barged into their chambers. He locked the door, but doubt it would hold back whoever was attacking his castle out. And he was proven right as the sounds of axes hitting the door from the outside were heard. He could've made for the secret door which led to the boat by the riverside, but he knew he couldn't get far with his gout, and for some reason he couldn't get the damn bloody door open. So, like a coward he crawled under the bed, just as the door was slammed open and armored armed men poured in.

"Search the room! The fucking cunt's hiding somewhere!" one of the men shouted as they began to tear the room apart, it was a few moments before all the feet of the men, fifteen if he guessed all pointed in his direction.

"Aw come on," said another voice, "It couldn't have been that _obvious_ ,"

With that said, the bed was flipped over, exposing Walder, as he was roughly grabbed and brought to his feet.

"Hiding like a child, tft! You definitely are a coward Frey, even if you are drunk!"

Walder was then punched in the face, before he being pummeled by the men, before a bark of 'Enough!' was heard and the men by the door cleared a path and he saw a white haired man, clad in Northern Armor walk into the chamber, sword in hand, and golden eyes glaring at the old man.

"Walder Frey, Lord of the Twins Crossing," the man growled out, "You are charged with treason, and murder of King Robb Stark of House Stark, Lady Catelyn Stark, and Lady Talisa, as well as the murder of over three thousand men of the North. In the name of the King of the North, I, Balian of the White Wolf, sentence you die. But, you shall not the honor of dying by the sword,"

Balian nodded toward the men holding the Lord of House Frey, and, getting the message, dragged the old man out of the chamber. Balian then walked toward the window and looked out in the same field where thousands of North men were killed. Now, it was the execution ground for any surviving Frey Guards that tried to hide.

As he watched the sight, he heard a scream as the falling form of Lord Walder Frey went past the window and hit the ground with a loud splat.

"Milord, Balian," said a Northern Knight, "we found Lord Edmure Tully in the dungeon, along with a few others,"

Balian nodded, "Good, and the women and children of House Frey?"

"We have them in the dining hall, milord," the knight said, and Balian nodded, and turned from the window and left the bed chamber.

* * *

All the surviving members of House Frey, which including the only surviving children of Walder, including his daughters and granddaughters, and other numerous children including True born children and base borns, all because of his constant fucking and whatnot, were all huddled together in the dining hall, the soldiers with their hands on their swords, just waiting for an excuse to kill them. Every man above the age of 10 and 6 was already put to the sword, meaning they were the only ones left.

The hall doors opened as Balian marched in, the sight of him making the women and children gasp in fright and murmur amongst each other, as the White wolf began to speak

"I spared you all for one purpose," Balian began as he walked around the group like his namesake, "I want you to go south to King's Landing, and tell that bastard little prick of a king, and his slut of a mother queen, that the sons and daughters of the North and the Riverlands are there's to torment no more. Tell them the North and the Riverlands are free, and if so much as a single Lannister bannerman sets his foot, we'll send the corpse back to them. Is that understood!?"

The women nodded, getting the point, and Balian ordered the men to escort them out of the dining hall. When the last of the remnants of House Frey finally left he turned to another men-at-arms.

"Burn it,"

* * *

 **An hour later**

* * *

Balian watched as the Twin castles of the Crossing came burning down, the once tall towers collapsing, serving as the tomb for all the Frey banner men slain in retribution for the Red Wedding.

Balian watched, as he was back on his horse, as the home of House Frey burnt completely to the ground. Next to him was Edmure, a solemn look on the Tullys face as he felt bitter satisfaction. While the Frey's were dealt justice, it would not bring his sister, his nephew, or his uncle back from the dead.

"I thank you, for getting me out of that place, Ser...," Edmure said softly, his formerly boisterous self now gone, while Balian only nodded as the flames quickly spread to the bridge, causing the uncle of the Young Wolf to sigh, "I only wish that my sister, and nephew were alive to see this,"

Balian couldn't help but agree with the new lord of Riverrun, but now was not the time to mourn the dead. They still had one more enemy to face, though with him sending the surviving Freys to King's Landing, the Little Bastard King will no doubt be very paranoid and make preparations for the inevitable attack. But, no matter what the odds, they will deliver the North's justice on the Lannisters, and show them the true meaning of "The North Remembers".

* * *

 _ **Patriot-112: O-Kay, I know this is rushed, but I know there were many of you who wanted to see this so, here ya go! Don't know if there will be another chapter since this technically a challenge fic for anyone who wants to try this sort of thing. Either way, I hope you all enjoyed, Bye-bye! See ya later!**_


	3. Chapter 3 Scared little lions, New King

_**Patriot-112: Hey everyone! Here I am with another chapter for, which is now, my Game of Thrones fic. I can honestly say, I was surprised at the support I was given. Now, for those who want an encore, I will give you one. However, after this chapter, I'm moving onto my second Game of Thrones idea, which I'm calling, 'Crusaders, and the rise of House Snostark'. I would tell you more, but I suggest you head to my Deviantart channel to see the minor details. Now, enough with the Bloody pomp! Let's have at it!**_

* * *

 _ **Scared little Lion cub**_

 _ **The New King in the North**_

* * *

 _ **Iron Throne Room**_

 _ **Red Keep**_

 _ **King's Landing**_

 _ **One Week after the Fall of the Twins**_

* * *

Joffrey Lannister Baratheon ( _to be more correct Joffrey Hill_ ), king of the Iron Throne, and ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, could only gape in shock and horror at what he was hearing and seeing in front of them. That being, what was left of House Frey, and the chest containing the heads of Roose Bolton, Walder Frey, and Roose Bolton's bastard, Ramsay. He just been told of what had happened at the Twins, according to the survivors, and the message on the parchment which was now being read by his mother, Queen Regent Cersei, whose look now matched her son's.

"How can this be!?" Cersei demanded, her voice tinged with dread, "Where did this second Northern Army come from!?"

The widow of Robert Baratheon was beyond horrified and incensed, considering there were more Stark supporters, and another Army of them no less. Even Tyrion, also known as the Imp, who was standing not too far away, was also surprised. Oh he expected the Northerners to one day regain their strength, but not this quickly.

"N-No one expected this, your Grace," the Grand Maester Pycelle said, "Though it does make me curious how they can reform an army so quickly after the army led by Robb Stark was annihilated at the Red Wedding... and considering how formidable these soldiers are, according to the Frey survivors, these are surely no amateurs."

"It's best we call the banners," said Lord Tywin Lannister, the former Hand of the King to King Aerys, and now Hand to his grandson, after relieving his least favorite dwarf son, "Have an expedition sent up North to deal with them. We can't allow these rebels to thrive up in the North and rally the other Northern houses,"

Tyrion could only sigh.

"I warned you about this father," the Imp said, garnering everyone's attention, "I said that the Northerners would NEVER forget, nor would they forgive,"

Tywin didn't answer his least favorite son, his face still stern.

Cersei looked back at the letter, the message clear and simple...

 _The Leech, and the Weasel have paid the toll. Now it's the lion's turn. For the King in the North!_

"Why can't those Northerners just lay down and DIE!" Shouted the Boy King, frustration and fear clear in his tone. "I'LL HAVE ALL THEIR HEADS!"

The other gathered nobles all began to feel uneasy, many of whom who witnessed the Mad King's own behavior all felt a sense of Deja vu, at how the...supposed 'son' of King Robert lost his temper. Tyrion just rolled his eyes.

"And how do you plan to do that, _Your Grace?,_ " Tyrion half asked, half mocked, causing his older sister, and the said king to glare venomously at him, "Just order them to kneel down and they'll let you chop their heads one at a time? What a _brilliant_ plan- no wait, I'm sorry, it's a terrible plan, because if they even SMELL a trace of you, they will be all over you and tear you to pieces in seconds,"

"I'LL HAVE YOU STRUNG BY THE MAIN GATE IN A GIBBET YOU-,"

"ENOUGH!" Tywin shouted, making even the sadistic Joffrey cower. "Right now, we must concentrate. Gather any forces that are available and send them North to deal with the rebels, with the Stark Men dead, and Winterfell a ruin it would only be a matter of time before they begin to splinter,"

"I'm afraid that there is still one Son of Eddard Stark left Milord Hand," Varys said, and Cersei looked at him with an insulted look.

"You mean that Bastard of his in the Night's Watch?" the Queen Regent said flippantly, "Impossible, the other Houses will never accept him,"

"My daughter is right, Varys," said Tywin, "I doubt the Northern Houses would accept a bastard as their liege lord,"

Varys began clearing his throat, his face showing minor anxiety, Tyrion noticed this and was concerned.

"What do you know Varys?" he asked the Spider, who sighed.

"As you know I have birds in all the Seven Kingdoms, including the North," he said, "A few years ago one of my birds found something intriguing, an old document, a Dead Man's order mind you, dating back to just after Aegon's Conquest of the Realm, written by Lord Torrhen Stark and signed by King Aegon I Targaryen himself, in the event should events like the ones recently should happen, as well as a Night's Watch Creed Amendent. 'In the event that should a majority of male members of House Stark were to perish in anyway, any baseborn children of Stark blood are to be hereby legitimized, effective immediately.' In the creed it says, 'In the event of demise of a Night Brother's Noble family, he is thereby permitted to forsake his vows, for the preservation of his House line and is thus free to leave his post whenever he wishes.' "

That caused everyone's eyes to widen in horror. More specifically, Ceresei's.

"Then that would mean...," she uttered out, and Varys nodded.

"I'm afraid so your grace," the Spider said, "Since this law is specifically for the North, due to King Aegon's respect of the Starks, I'm afraid that Jon _Stark_ , is now officially Lord of Winterfell and now, after the death of his brother Robb, King of the North,"

* * *

 **Meanwhile...at Winterfell**

* * *

Jon couldn't believe he was now back home. Or...what was left of it.

But as he rode with his escort, Ghost not far from him, he could see workman repairing the damage done by the Ironborn, a result of Theon's betrayal. His eyes narrowed at the very memory of the arrogant Greyjoy who was his father's ward. He heard from one of the knights escorting him that they found the Ironborn traitor in the dungeon, with Ramsay Snow, torturing him, making him a eunuch before said bastard of Bolton was killed, and Theon was beheaded days later.

He shook his head of the thought as they entered through the gates of the home he thought he would never see again. In the courtyard, many men, including soldiers, carpenters, artisans, and others were moving about rebuilding the damage done, while banners of House Stark fluttered in the breeze. People began to stop what they were doing as they spot Jon entering with his escort of four knights of the Order of the Direwolf. The supposed bastard of Winterfell, felt nervous as he felt the stares of the people looking at him. He was no longer clad in the garb of the Night's Watch, but was now clad in Northern Armor _(the same armor Robb wore during the War of Five Kings_ ), along with a Winter cloak much similar to his father's when he saw him for the last time, alive. He felt a pang of sadness in his heart as he remembered the final conversation with Lord Eddard Stark, his sire promising that when they met again, they would talk about his mother.

Now, he'll never get the chance...

"Milord...," said one of the knights, and Jon looked up as he saw that they were dismounting their horses.

Giving a tired sigh, Jon dismounted the black as night stallion he was given to ride. He thought back to when the knights came and told him, to his shock, that he was legitimized as part of a dead man's law, written by King Aegon I Targaryen, that since he the only eldest son of Eddard Stark left. Alliser Thorne, who was beginning to become more hostile with him, told the knights that he couldn't return to Winterfell because he swore a vow, the knights surprised him when they showed him a law in the Night's Watch Creed, in which, basically, since he was the last eldest son, with his other brothers missing, he must return to Winterfell, and assume as Lord Paramount and Warden of the North. And now, King in the North. Hence, he was free to leave the Night's Watch, and will not be labeled a deserter.

Ghost walked up to him, and Jon pat the white Direwolf, now the size of a small horse, on the head.

"I know boy, I'm happy to be back home as well," he said, and looked up as another man, wearing the same armor as the other knights, with shoulder length brown hair, and a full beard, approached him.

"Lord Stark, they're waiting for you in the great hall," the man said, and Jon nodded, though still not used to being called Lord.

"Thank you," he said, and began walking to the said hall. On the way there, he noticed that the numerous Direwolf statues were either badly damaged or destroyed. It made his blood boil with hatred for the Ironborn, as well as the people who betrayed his family. Though Lady Catelyn never gave him any form of parental love, he always respected her. He arrived at the great dining hall where he saw nine people already there, all wearing the wolf like armor of their order, with grey fur trimmed cloaks, with their swords drawn raised in attention.

"Lord Jon," said the man near the Hightable, standing at attention, his helmet removed, showing his ashen white hair and wolf like eyes. Jon had heard stories about a knight with similar features from his father, who told him how he fought alongside him in Robert's Rebellion. Seeing him person, made Jon feel like he was seeing a dragon for the first time. The man then motioned for the now former bastard to approach and said young man did so.

"Take a knee, Milord." Balian said, "A proper ceremony is required,"

Jon nodded in understanding and kneeled as instructed, as the man drew his sword, which he saw that the blade was made of Valyrian steel, and then proceeded to tap Jon on both shoulders, and then spoke again.

"Be without fear, in the face of your enemies. Be brave, so that the Gods may favor thee. Speak the truth, always, even if it leads to your death. Protect the helpless."

Then without warning, Jon felt a hard slap to his face, most likely to his nose, prompting Ghost to growl a bit, but Jon placed a hand on him to calm him down.

"And _that_ , is so you'll remember it," Balian said, his eyes bearing a serious glint in them. Jon nodded in understanding, even as the blood trickled down from his nose. "Rise, Jon Stark. Lord of Winterfell, and King in the North."

Jon stood, just as Balian bowed his head, and turned around as the other knights did the same.

The now Lord of Winterfell then walked out of the Hall, the knights escorting him, as he went to the same bridge where his father watched him and his brothers, as he and Robb trained Bran in archery. Now in the courtyard, were the armed men of the North as they looked among their new King. Of course, Jon didn't know how to feel, at first, he felt as if he didn't deserve as it rightfully belonged to Robb, and his younger brothers. But, with Bran and Rickon missing, and Robb dead, he was the only choice left.

"Hail! The King in the North!"

"The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!"

* * *

 _ **Patriot-112:**_ _ **And another done! I hope all you North fans out there enjoyed this! I was playing Siegfried's Funeral March (Used in the movie Excalibur) as I writing this chapter. Especially where he was made Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. And now, the little lions are shaking in their dens, and how will Tywin deal with a renewed Northern assault. Of course, Jon has to first, get the North stabilized by getting rid of the treacherous trash, and help defend the wall. Until then, please fav, follow, and review!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: Game of Thrones, and the books it is based on, belong to their respectful owners, and this is NOT intended as a copyright infringement, but for fun. Of course there will be those who will not see it that way (Glares at GRR Martin).**_

 _ **So, until next time my friends!**_


	4. Author's Note

_**Author's note:**_ **Yes my poor readers, the one thing you all hate most. More vile than the White Walkers... An AUTHOR'S NOTE! However, the reason I'm setting this up, is because after the finale of Season 6, it made my idea for this fic a little void. Though I'm happy with Jon's parentage FINALLY being revealed, and Jon himself ACTUALLY being made King in the North, it has caused me to rethink this. So, yeah...**

 **But I was also thinking of my original idea as a challenge to anyone who would make a better job. One person asked me to adopt and make a different version of my Naruto fanfic, Naruto and the Kyuubi Child, and they did a GREAT JOB! Now, if anyone wants to adopt the idea of this fic, please you're free to ask me, and I'll say yes.**

 **Sigh, anyway, on another note, I won't be posting any new for this, or for my other fics for a while. My gramps is gonna get a hip replacement, and that means a very. Grumpy. Sourpuss. Bear of a grandpa, and a lot of stuff for me to do around the house. So, I'll try to get back on track as soon as possible. Until then, later!**


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